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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631904">facets of a diamond</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollie_outie/pseuds/ollie_outie'>ollie_outie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Painplay, Pale Kink (Homestuck), Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sickfic, did i write this at four am under the influence of alcohol? yes. am i proud of it? no, i write too much for these dorks, i'm probably gonna stick any gamkar drabbles i come up with here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:49:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollie_outie/pseuds/ollie_outie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unrelated gamkar drabbles</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gamzee Makara/Karkat Vantas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>God but you pity this beautiful wreck of a troll, his barkbeast eyes and starlight fucking streaming out of his mouth, an idiot with fronds practically made for killing and bones bared through his skin. How in the fuck did you let him crawl so deep inside your pusher, when did every action of your sweet dumbass clown start to cause your pusher frankly embarrassing aches.</p><p>Oh but you love this boy, your little spitfire, your beautiful raging brother, so tied up in hiding that he's still not aware that you've already up and <i>seen</i>, seen the miraculous shade your brother all ties himself in knots over, seen and knew the beauty before the motherfucking heresy, and pitied him even more for the noose he's had hanging off his throatstem since hatching.</p><p>He's just so mind numbingly <i>stupid</i> sometimes, with a stubborn streak big enough to almost be impressive if it wasn't so annoying, how attached he gets to ideas and how impossible he can be to talk down. it's one of his best and worst traits, the way he'll stand resolute in pouring rain waiting for a lusus that you're sure is never coming, and how he's just as willing to wait for you, to search you out and pull you away from whatever bullshit tantrum you'd been throwing because he's so sure that you're precious, that you're his responsibility, <i>palest love, sweetest diamond, little sugarstar</i>, and so he never leaves you alone for more than a night. </p><p>Oh, but your boy does frustrate something fierce, in his ways. Tears himself asunder, til all as is left is beautiful, pitiful as all motherfucker little shitbits of a troll, all for the friends he is still too bullheaded to admit he cares for. Brother spends days and nights fretting and worrying over his little clade all while ignoring his own self, so quick to run himself to ruins for the sake of others. Karkat bleeds love and pity and hate out of every pore of him, screeches it like a remark on the weather and you adore it, cherish every little expression he has. You only wish he could point that same sweetness at himself, sometime. </p><p>He's the weirdest romantic, too. A clown being any sort of romantic is already weird as fuck, they should just honk some horns and be done with it, but your Gamzee has to go a step further. He still has the god awful horns and honks them with more enthusiasm than any troll your age should have, but there's more to it. He listens to you whine and moan about whatever bullshit you're upset about that day while massaging out the knots that sweeps of stress have worked into your spine with too cold, steady hands. He cooks for you and cleans and never lets you forget for a single self loathing filled second that he's here for you, always petting you arm or running his claws over your skull with a gentle absent mindedness and humming along to the radio station he knows you like and insists on tuning into whenever he's in the kitchen. He makes you feel <i>domestic</i>, like you're some stay at home 'rail with a doting highblood quadrant, it's so stupid and simple and outrageously perfect for the two of you. </p><p>Motherfuck, you've called this boy your home and hearth longer than you can remember. Loved him, his sunrise fierce scowl and moonbeam gentle smiles alike and intensely for ages, and he still gets you blushing all bright and hot at times. He's so motherfucking <i>sweet</i>, is the thing, knows your favorite meals and is sure to stock their ingredients even after he got banned rom the cooking block, takes care after all your injuries like you were barely but a grub and has been known to bring you down all fucking swooning and panmuddled palesoft over a paper cut. He's learned the times and rhythms of your prayers, comes to sit with you at the suns setting and moons rising while you look out for a lusus you still ain't able to let go of and never does more than grasp your own frond gentle in his and wait for you. He's more than you deserve, and you thank Messiahs and him everyday for the blessing that your palest diamond is.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i wrote this in a drunken fit of rage in an attempt to calm down, enjoy 💛</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Day is best spent wrapped all choking tight around your 'rail, keeping him safe and in frond. Lanky thin as you are and stocky small as he is, you can cover him completely, hide him away from the whole world. <br/>His little body does burn so fucking bright, almost like to scald when you lay frond to him. Would almost believe he swallowed a star, to get so burning hot on the inside, and if any one motherfucker were to all pull down the heavens just to take a bite then it'd be your Karkat. And his heart, precious pusher that you would tear the world apart to protect, that you've been tempted to rip out and seal safe away in a tomb before he could get to breaking it for real, it beats fast as a hopbeasts, harsh little <i>ThumpThumpThump</i>s right after the other with not the slightest pause. <br/>You wonder at times about the why's and how's of it, much as you allow yourself to think on your so breakable beloved's body. Wonder if he's gonna burn out quicker than the rest of you because of it, wonder if he's a candle burning out at both ends and how you're going to keep his flames bright, wonder how long you can keep him from turning to naught but ash. Gotta be a reason he's so special, but your busted self ain't ever had a mind for how a husk works, only how it bends.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tl;dr i love Gamz+pain play and maintenance punishment :33c</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were rage, you were holy anger made flesh, pump biscuit pulsing and pounding so harsh tucked between your ribs you were sure it would rend you open eventually, beat it's way out from the cage your body made, and that seemed the holiest joke, for Messiahs to grant you their strength and then end you with it. You were bloodied, painted up in purples and blues and greens, claws stained with old blood and it felt so motherfucking right.<br/>
Now though, now you are tired. You are motherfucking <i>weak</i>, cold frond wrapped in blazing heat and caught by that same inferno in his eyes as Karkat leads you backwards and away, stumbling deeper into your hive after him. You don't struggle yet, in the very least animal bits of your pan you know what's needed much this bit of it earns nothing but motherfucking loathing on your part. You let yourself get chained and bound all pretty as he pleases, let him trap your arms back behind you with soft rope that leaves you hanging off a blunt hook and tight knots across chest, arms and thighs that make little bestial bits of you wanna choke. Your claws are tucked safe and away so you can't even get at tearing at your own flesh, angle your horns back as he slips little rings down the base and leads the chains attached down to your wrists so they <i>click</i> on to their cuffs so there ain't any risk of you goring a motherfucker now, no give to toss those wicked horns about without wrecking your own carpal. Let him pull you down, hot little hands so gentle sweet on your face, and you feel him buckle the collar round your neck, jerk when his paws move away and know it's got a chain hooked and secured on the floor by its weight and jingle. It's heavy, strong. You know what's coming and have a pang of pure pity for your palemate, he who binds you but still has the kindness to buy thick chain and coat the metal and leather bits in furs. The softness of its lining don't do shit to make its weight more comfortable though, how it wears away at the last patient sane trollish pieces of you and you can't do a single motherfucking thing about how it feels like it's fucking choking you, only letting you pull in shallow shallow gasps and you fucking can't with this shit, you are DYING here, drowning even though it's been perigees since you even fucking smelt the water, lifetimes since you saw a beach but you are dying you are drowning and you motherfucking can't breathe can't draw enough air to even HOWL--<br/>
Hot little hands brush against your face and only the familiar smell keeps you from snapping fangs at your moirail. You whine for him, try to be pitiable enough for him to free you, let you motherfucking breathe, but he just lets out a soft little shoosh and you are heartbroken. He will keep you <i>trapped</i>, chained and roped like you are a MOTHERFUCKING BARKBEAST. And you can love this motherfucker with the whole of your diamond, but <i>YOU WILL BE NO PET. </i><br/>
He backs away as you twist and turn and <i>fucking SNAP, tear at every MOTHERFUCKING THING</i>, sitting himself down just out of range, even when you let the ropes <i>yank</i> on your shoulders to kick out at him. He does naught but sit there, watching as you scream and kick and <i>ache</i> so keenly to rip the world to shreds. You are panting and snapping fang at imagined foes when the first strike comes, a sharp <i>crack</i> that shatters your world apart and builds it back up in the ringing of your ears and the sting on the back of your thighs. Karkat's voice rings out "One," and You know the implicit order there, you growl out a <i>Two</i> as the cane comes down on your rump and keep counting between pants and wails, shake on your feet til all that keeps you up is the rope spanning your chest and arms. He keeps going even as you so desperately wanna <i>fall</i>, strikes your hide damn near to bleeding until finally you falter, pitter out on a scream and cannot whimper how many times wood has met flesh. The blows stop and  you are able to rest within yourself, all scorched clean of everything but the slowly fading pain that stretches itself out all across your husk. Your pan is miraculously, gloriously <i>empty</i>.<br/>
You feel yourself drop, gravity pulling you down so you rest on your knees, ass up and head down. Hot hands pull at ropework, unlock metal and unbuckle leather til your limbs do truly belong to naught but yourself again. Sweetest miracle it'd be if you had any intent put towards moving.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>fun fact: i wrote the draft for this fic when i was like 14 and decided to fuck around with it when i was clearing out my folders. please enjoy 14yo me's idea of pure romance and 21yo me's attempt to fix this mess (=^^=)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your best beloved came to you last day, as was planned and marked on both your calendars, little pale pink diamonds scattered all up on the datesquare to remind you. And your brother, sweet and kind and reliable in ways you are yet unused to, brought himself hive. He seemed tired, poor little motherfucker almost always does, and you had reckoned it was time to be the fairytale moirail Karkat deserves, picking him up and nuzzling into his mess of hair as you carried him off to your respiteblock, dropping down gentle as could be managed onto the pile kept there, careful not to jostle the grouching body in your arms. Would have been maybe a mite too early to get to jamming yet though, brother had just gotten to you. It ain't like the journey from his hive to yours is motherfucking easy, all full up of twisting trails and rock faces, he ought to just rest for a bit. You pet the hair between his horns, smoothing it down from where it's bristled up all grumpy meowbeast like, and let yourself rumble out a soft little purr just for him.<br/>
Eventually, you roll a bit so Karkat shifts from where he was laying on your thorax onto the pile, curling him into your side so you can cuddle up to him easier, burying your face into his wild little mane of hair, fitting neat between his horns, trying not to worry too hard when you notice how much hotter your brother is burning, like someone took the little inferno that makes hearth and home of Karkat and all turned it up another notch.<br/>
Tucking him up all nice and snug in your pile, for all he keeps wandering off the second your eyes slip away, you set yourself to take good care after him, pour glass after glass of water down his throat cuz dehydration sure as fuck ain't no joke, ain't wanting to take no risks with your precious littlest brothers health when he only just got to you.<br/>
It's only after he's begging off another glass of water and turned down your offer of grub to you lay your hands on him proper, kneeling down by him on the pile and scritching gentle as could be at his scalp, pull your claws through the itsy bitsy knots as like to pile up in his hair. Brother butts his head all false impatience against your stomach, pushing at you soft till you're laying down proper and he can curl into your side. You let him rest, petting and shushing and loving on him well as you can, hoping to make him well with will alone, much as you know ills like this can only be waited out. Unscheduled nights get added to your time together, you precious 'rail allowing your caretaking only after you sweet talk and beg him to. Stupid stubborn as he is it took some doing, but Karkat is staying til he's healed up and you both get in some needed loving.<br/>
It's been three right days spent in a pattern of feeding and pouring water down Karkat's throat, watching easy romances that your love may enjoy without feeling the need to get his rant on, and spending day wrapped around each other with equal time talking and sleeping. A good job you've done, playing nurse for your dearest diamond, much as most of it is an excuse to cuddle and take care knowing you won't be met with the screechy fluster as is so typical in your love. Brother still doesn't seem convinced on the soup though, for all you've been taking care and know that bit of warm in a sick gut feels downright fucking miraculous.<br/>
“Come on, bro,” you start at him again, kneeling above him as he lays back in the pile and pretends to focus on the nights movie. When all that earns you is another grumpy little frown and glare, you go on, voice still soft as moonlight, “You thinking I'd up and lie at you on this? And I know you ain't put barely anything in your gut ‘cept water in all the time you've been here, you gotta be feeling all aching empty all up in your nutrition sack by now.”<br/>
Another tiny little frown, and he's groaning all anguished at you, like even proposing the thought of eating is killing him, and also maybe a little bit like he's finally starting to accept that you're right on this.<br/>
“Do you even have cluckbeast soup? That's what you're supposed t feed sick trolls, right? I fucking swear the only things you'd keep in your hive without me are slime and shitty clown memorabilia.”<br/>
You ignore the latter of his statements, knowing it full Well to be true, and get at addressing the important bit, “Well, not quite cluckbeast soup, best friend,” you say, rushing your words all out so he can't get his yell on when you see that pout deepen to a scowl, “but I got the next best thing!”<br/>
“Gamzee, I swear to you fucking cloen gods if ‘the next best thing’ is a pie-” he starts, you won't let him get all harsh now, now you might've convinced him to eat.<br/>
“No!” you say, and give him a soft <i>pap</i> on his precious little face for good measure when he seems inclined to keep going, “No, brother, you've learned it to me firm on not offering pie to you, it's just,” and here you gotta stop, feeling a mite sheepish, “can't really make cluckbeast soup without cluckbeast, yeah?” and oh, there's the special <i>god dammit, Gamzee</i> frown he pulls out when you're being a dumbass, “Ain't got cluckbeast, but I got plenty of fish, and I made some nice stew with it a bit ago that I could hot up for you nice.”<br/>
“Why didn't you say from the get go it was a fish stew?” he goes at you, all grumbling and frustrated, “Instead of giving me a heart attack thinking you were about to offer me some of your fucking poison goop.”<br/>
“Brother beloved,” you start, solemn and serious as you can make it, while teasing him so, “you are one of the pickiest eaters I have ever got my know on of, and even more so when you're already feeling all sick and hateful at the very motherfucking concept of food. If I started out calling the stew as it is you'd have gotten your stubborn on twice as hard, and it'd be til well into midday you'd let it past your maw, even with the both of us knowing it'd make you feel better.”<br/>
When he looks ready to argue on it more, you lay frond against his precious pouting stubborn ass face, covering his mouth just the slightest bit, “I just want to make you feel well again, Karkat, do my duty as a diamond proper and care for my dearest love.” You say, giving him the saddest barkbeast eyes you can muster. You know it's playing dirty, poor brother has trouble denying you in the best of times when you look on him like that, and when you throw in the littlest bit of pale talk and use his actual name, the motherfucker crumbles quick as dry sand.<br/>
“I'll try some of your damn stew, okay? Just, stop with the face.” He's looking a bit to the side now, all flustered by his acquiescence and your words, beautiful hopeless motherfucking romantic that he is.<br/>
Normal like you'd be putting all your attention on that, looking on him for the cute as all motherfuck pink blush that usually shows on his ears, but now that he's finally allowing it you've got a palemate to feed, and you stretch over to give him a kiss on his precious snubby nose to watch it crinkle up all offended meowbeast-like before heading over to your nutrition block to heat him up some nourishment, finally.</p>
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